Deprication
by Alexz85
Summary: Boundaries are meant to protect. Patty is beginning to forget how to protect herself.   Damages, Patty/Ellen


**Deprecation Part 1 **

Title: Deprecation

Fandom: Damages

Pairing: Patty/Ellen

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Don't own them. Just wish I did.

Summary: Boundaries are meant to protect. Patty is beginning to forget how to protect herself.

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><p><em><strong>Deprecation Part 1<strong>_

Self deprecation is a carefully crafted tool, used to build walls and set well standing boundaries. Well cemented and well meaning boundaries.

Boundaries are meant to protect.

And Patty has got a high wall around herself. It's made out of brick and it's been taken down in sections by a handful of individuals-so deserving, some not-, then patched up again with sturdy stone.

This time, however, she's finding it difficult to keep the walls up.

It seems as though she's never had a chance with Ellen Parsons. She was at her beck and call since the day they met and even Patty can't explain why. She was yet another tool. A young, naive attorney she could use to her advantage and then move on. And why not? She had done it before. She built her career on using the usable, after all. The disposable. Ellen was supposed to be disposable.

She was SUPPOSED to be disposable.

What happened along the way, Patty is still not sure of. Little by little, and through no attempt or fault of her own, the young woman managed to slip in between the cracks and over the course of five years, has managed to partially destroy said walls, one pebble at a time.

First, it was her rage and the revenge that Patty allowed her. Because she deserved validation. Patty had royally screwed her and underneath the initial surprise and the hurt, she wasn't all that surprised anymore. But she was pained. Surprisingly so. And then, there was the way she tried to rein her back into her life with gifts. One gift. And the games that followed. The back and forth teasing game of wits and jealousy tantrums that were never directly addressed.

It was foreplay.

That's the only way to put it. Foreplay to what surged after a painstakingly slow build up that spilled over in an unnecessary argument that turned into a shouting match neither expected, which culminated in an all too short tryst in Ellen's new kitchen that required a mere hiking of skirts. It wasn't passionate, but frantic. And it wasn't loud, but quiet and uncomfortably so when they were done and were then forced to retreat from their position against the fridge. Slick thighs and flushed cheeks and necks sent Patty away without another word about the incident.

Sometimes, Patty wishes they had had the decency to not have spoken for a couple of days after that. They didn't. And it was business as usual. Until the following night, in Patty's office, when Ellen fucked her on her desk and then left with a smile in her face and Patty's panties in her pocket

She's tried to end things. Tried to steer away from Ellen and her revolving door of suitors. Go back to their little seduction game. She worked well that way. They both did. Unlike now, when the thought of what Ellen's days away from her involved, drives her insane. Days away, with whatever little boyfriend she's running around with that month.

She's tried many times. And every time, she's unsuccessful. This is a problem she's yet to find a solution to.

"Stop," She says, turning her head away from soft lips to have them land on her cheek instead. Her heart is beating rapidly and she hopes she's still got some strength left to conceal it with a firm grimace. Her shoulder's pressed against the door she can't open because Ellen's holding it shut with her palm of her hand. She's got a good three inches on Patty and she's using them to her advantage now. She's looming over her, peering down the low cut top the blonde wears and standing dangerously close.

Patty wants to push her aside, but for some godforsaken, unknown reason, she doesn't dare touch the other woman. Instead, she repeats more firmly, "Stop. Move."

She told her this morning. In between overlooking testimonies together, she told her. She didn't ask, but TOLD. Because it's not up for reassessing any longer. It's over. Patty's decided it's gone on long enough and she's glad she told her. "We're not doing this anymore. Last night was the last time. I expect you to respect my wishes," She had said. Upon which, Ellen responded with a long lasting, unreadable stare that broke with the addressing of a legal matter pertaining to their case.

As it turns out, Ellen does not respect Patty's wishes. Sometimes, Patty thinks she doesn't respect her all that much, period.

"Please," The young woman begs her softly, smelling of sweet perfume and the fruit salad she had for lunch only minutes ago, and dares to touch Patty's waist with just nimble fingertips.

Patty sighs and knows she's given herself away, but tries again, now at the end of the tether of her reasoning, "No. I told you I'm not doing this anymore. I meant that. So please get out of the way."

She doesn't get out of the way and this infuriates Patty for many reasons. One being, she doesn't trust herself to not oblige if Ellen were to lean in even an inch, in spite of the glass walls and doors of the conference room. The blonde tries for the door again, her hand firmly turning the handle before she pulls, then darts her eyes up in an galling glare when the door doesn't give. If she plays her cards right, people will think they're having a discussion about something work related. So, calmly, and even toned, she instructs slowly, "Ellen, step aside."

A silent battle lasting all of fifteen seconds that Patty times in her head follows and Ellen's eyes are searching. Waiting, for Patty to change her mind. Patty doesn't change her mind and when she tries the door again, it finally opens and Ellen's hand falls off her waist, leaving the older woman with room to leave, drawing in a deep breath as she walks in a speedier than usual pace up hallways, turning corners, and blindly avoiding coworkers until she's reached the safety of her own office, where she makes a beeline for her desk, sitting slowly as she exhales equally so and presses her palms on the flat surface before her. It's a couple of minutes before she's gathered herself completely and is then able to return to work.

The first two days after calling it off are-different. While the two women still work fine together, there's tension. Lunches together are either quiet or filled with minimal conversation all pertaining to work. Eye contact is necessary, of course. It is always necessary. They need to trust what they say to each other as colleagues. But it's difficult and not long lasting. They avert and fidget now. It's-different. Mostly because Ellen seems to switch from angry to indifferent in the snap of a finger. Patty hardly knows what to do with this, but she lets it slide.

On the third day, they are alone. Not that they haven't been alone before, but they're alone in the elevator, in a rare moment where there isn't a third party. This has not happened since Patty refused to touch Ellen, and it's too quiet. She can hear herself breathe but can't hear herself think. After a second, Ellen inhales sharply beside her, then takes a step back. Another floor passes them by and the brunette's breathing becomes ragged. Patty shivers and for a second, she feels the younger woman step closely behind her-for a second, she feels as if she might touch her and the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

That's when the elevator doors open and Ellen rushes past her, quickly in the opposite direction of what was originally intended. Patty can't move for a good pause of a moment. The doors nearly close on her before she wills her feet to move.

That night, she cries.

She's not sure why. She only knows that, inexplicably, and unforeseeably, the second she walks into her apartment and the door is shut behind her, it begins to burst from her in painful sobs, gusts of hair that she muffles with her palm until she can't any longer and she slides down against the door, weak and crying on the floor until she's near dehydration and her head is aching.

She craves it, too, she knows now. She wants to be touched, wants to feel wanted just as much as Ellen wants her and wants to touch her. But not like this. She's not willing to play these types of games anymore.

She's never been comfortable with not knowing what's ahead and this is an uphill road that would never show her where the downturn is.

The week that follows is easier. They slowly fall back into quiet discussions and little by little, they're able to hold each other's gaze for more than a miserable second. Lunches alone are not as painstaking, and once, they even laugh together about something that wouldn't be very funny to anybody else. Ellen hasn't tried to touch her again and while she still desires it during quiet moments alone, Patty knows cold turkey is the way to do it.

It's on a Sunday, after her trainer has left, and she's sat in her kitchen with a glass of orange juice, that she feels an ache in her chest. It's a month later and inside, she feels suddenly very cold. She feels vacant. The TV in the kitchen blares CNN moderately and the apartment is otherwise empty. Looking across the island counter, the orange juice becomes flavorless against her tongue and she quickly gives up on it.

This sends her on a jog in the park and brings her back to a hot shower that does nothing to soothe her aching muscles. She attempts to read through some paperwork, but nothing seems legible.

At around noon, she calls up an old colleague she's promised to see many times before but has never actually kept her promise to do so. She decides she could use the distraction, and Marge Tolstoy is very surprised to hear from her old college roommate. They have a long lunch and this sends Patty back home by two PM, where she serves herself a drink and puts on an old Neil Young album she hasn't listened to in far too long.

The files she intended to read through sit scattered on her dining room table for hours, in which she stares at them and hopes for the ability to concentrate, but it never comes.

The rest of the day is hell. It's long and filled with nothing and by the time midnight rolls around, she has to resort to sleeping pills and another glass of bourbon.

Monday, she's restless again, but work is a welcome distraction.

Ellen isn't around much. This, she half regrets, but mostly, she is thankful for. Here and there, they catch moments together, where they discuss work. All of these instances are shared with their colleagues and at times, Patty wishes they were alone.

Ellen has adopted an permanent indifferent attitude and Patty-not only does she not quite know what to make of that but she's losing sight of what to do with herself. At lunch time, she looks up in the midst of reading an email, to see Ellen walk right past her office, and down the hall towards the elevator without even an acknowledging nod, cell phone pressed to her ear as she verifies what appears to be a lunch date.

"Yeah, absolutely, I can't wait to see you-"

That, and a flirtatious chuckle, are the last things Patty hears before the brunette disappears into the elevator and she's left with an ironic smile on her face. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes up at the ceiling, glasses perched on her nose as she contemplates breaking something. Instead, she returns her attention to work and doesn't come up for air for another three hours.

Managing to clear her mind of all things Ellen Parsons becomes something to be proud of by the time she's settled down for the evening. It's near two in the morning when her phone rings and wakes her from a rare, but peaceful sleep.

Groggy and partially disoriented, she opens her eyes in her darkened bedroom and slowly turns her head towards the vibrating cell phone tittering at the ledge of her nightstand before she reaches over and grabs it.

Without looking, she presses it to her ear and greets sleepily into the receiver, "Hello?"

There is a momentary silence, and in these mere two seconds, Patty instantly knows who it is suddenly alert and wide awake.

"Patty?" Ellen replies softly on the other end, "I have-something to show you. It's about the Larson case." A pause, "It's important."

Patty sits up slowly in bed and lowers her head, her hair falling forward, in a curtain framing her face as she presses her palm to her eyes and replies gruffly, "It's late, Ellen-"

"It's important," She repeats, as if it will make a difference.

"Leave it with the doorman and uh-I will look at it in the morning."

"It can't wait, Patty. Can I come up?"

She sighs in reply. She licks her lips, presses worried fingers against her temple and rubs firmly.

"I'll be up in a minute," Ellen says before any other objection can formulate in Patty's brain, and the blonde is hanging up and up on her feet, reaching for her robe within seconds.

She doesn't bother with switching on any lights as she walks through the darkened apartment and down the stairs towards the front door. She doesn't intend to allow Ellen in for longer than a second and no further than the foyer, but by the time she's standing on the opposite side of the doorway and Ellen is staring back, empty-handed, she knows all the strategizing is useless.

"What did you want to show me, Ellen?" She asks, hand securely on the open door. She stiffens as Ellen's eyes take in her appearance. Loosely fitting white silk pants, paired with a black lace camisole laid bare to the young woman's hungry stare as her robe falls open and showcases her completely. The look in the young attorney's eyes is more than hunger and this makes Patty feel completely exposed, and makes her core instantly ache.

"I don't have anything to show you," Ellen confesses. She steps closer slowly. It only takes three steps, but it feels like an eternity.

And then, she's close. She's so close and looking at Patty as if she hasn't looked in years.

Her lips part, as if she wants to say something, but it never happens, and Patty has to take this as an advantage, "Ellen-what are you doing?"

Ellen doesn't look at her when she speaks next, "Can I come in?"

Wordlessly, Patty steps aside after only a moment of objection and as soon as she closes the door, she feels soft, possessive hands circle her waist, then slide around her middle until, thinly arms are embracing her tightly and wanton lips are softly laving the back of her neck.

She lays her own hands, flat on the door, and she sighs, both in relief and in self frustration. She's come too far to fall now, but she hasn't really much control. Her head falls forward and she feels nearly defeated as Ellen's hands continue their slowly paced search. they move across her abdomen, her ribcage-until they cup her breasts and she molds them firmly against her palms. At this, Patty's mouth fall open and feels the moisture pool quickly between her legs.

Ellen gently pinches Patty's taut nipples and the older woman curls her fingers against the door, her lips falling open in a sharp gasp before one hand falls lower and cups her crotch through the silk of her pants. She's wet and she knows Ellen can probably feel it, but the friction against her clit is almost too good to pass up as the brunette presses the heel of her hand with more gusto, and in turn, Patty moans, pressing the other woman to step closer, bringing their bodies as closely together as humanly possible while she continues to rub the blonde into a miserable frenzy.

Her hips buckle forward and she gasps when Ellen pushes her flat against the door, pressing herself onto her back as Patty rests her forehead to the cold surface, panting heavily as able fingers press hard against her opening, rubbing in a slow, circular motion. She feels Ellen's breath, hot against her neck, her tongue , her teeth and lips, no doubt, leaving marks here and there. She hears her name in a harsh whisper and she whimpers as the other unforgiving hand pinches her nipple harder.

"You can't tell me you didn't miss this-" Ellen says behind her, nipping briefly at Patty's earlobe, then adding in a lower tone, "-how could you get off without me?"

In spite of the pleasurable build within her loins, Patty's eyes open and she grimaces in disgust. The words bring her back to the initial incentive of her staying away, and with difficulty, she wills herself to move, then brings her hand down between her legs, where Ellen is still working her. She grips and stills it, her breath heavy when she speaks, "Stop," When Ellen attempts to continue, Patty turns her grip higher and pulls at the young woman's wrist until she's able to move out from between the tall, thin body and the door.

Never glancing back, she runs a trembling hand through her hair and hopes that her still tingling legs will take her safely back up to her bedroom, "Just go, Ellen," She tells her, turning up to take the first step northbound.


End file.
